


The Empty Throne

by literary_potato



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Game of Thrones AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24194632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literary_potato/pseuds/literary_potato
Summary: A Game of Thrones-inspired AU of the Sith Warrior storyline. Eventual F!SW x Malavai Quinn ship.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	The Empty Throne

The bright, sharp clang of swords rang out over the practice yard, the sound no duller for having come from blunted steel.

Lyara darted past her opponent, her mind split between the distribution of weight on each leg, the grip of her fingers on the pommel, and the subtle tone of her opponents bladesong — straining to hear the latter distinctly, out of all the other metallic pitches filling the air, without forgetting the rest of her form.

“Girl!”

Immediately she fell from a combat posture to attention. (A foolish blunder, normally, but for all their backstabbing, she trusted the other novices wouldn’t be stupid enough to bring down the quartermaster’s wrath by disregarding a superior.) She looked up to the rampart for instruction.

The steward jerked his head. “Lord Tremel wishes to speak with you.”

She blew out sharply, unsticking the sweat-and-dirt-matted hair from her face. She debated what would irritate Lord Tremel more: arriving filthy or arriving late.

 _Late_ , she decided at the steward’s impatient gesture. _Late would be worse._

———

She rapped her knuckles on the door lightly.

“Enter.”

She obeyed smoothly, coming to stand before the lord’s writing desk with her hands clasped behind her back.

Tremel gave her a withering glance-over. “Would it have been too much trouble to wash some of the stink off before coming here?”

 _Ah, filthy is worse_. Why filthy would be worse was the more interesting question. She feigned innocence, her eyes widening. “Apologies, my lord. I thought you would prefer punctuality to cleanliness.”

“I would prefer both,” he said, giving her a pointed stare.

She kept appropriately mute. It was expected that those sorts of looks should make her quail. Best to meet those expectations.

Her docility seemed to satisfy Tremel. He picked up a roll of parchment from his desk, shaking his head. “Close the door. There’s been a raven from the capital.”

“About the guest?” She bit her tongue, cursing herself as soon as she said it.

Tremel gave her another pointed glare.

“I believe I instructed you to stop snooping.”

“I didn’t snoop, sir.”

Tremel raised a silent eyebrow. Elaborate, it said.

She sighed. “We don’t normally need that many rashers of bacon. The kitchens have been overflowing recently. Either someone is coming to call, or you’ve suddenly decided the kitchen boys need more rations.” Of course she had also heard those kitchen boys gossip about a visitor, but no sense in bringing that up now.

Tremel rubbed his forehead and stood. “I shouldn’t be surprised you figured it out. Yes, we are to have a visitor. Lord Baras.”

“House Baras of the throne lands. Silver boar rampant on a slate gray field,” she responded automatically.

“And?”

She paused now, struggling to think back to her lessons… the boring ones, where she’d had to memorize meaningless facts with no particular attraction and no bearing on her reality. “Headed by Lord Ralon Baras. Unmarried,” she said hesitantly. “One sister living, married into House Ekkage. Lord Baras is known to take on children from minor families as his wards.”

“Wrong on two counts,” Tremel corrected. “He takes on wards from minor families, but he’s also been known to take on bastards.”

“And the other count?”

Tremel braced himself against the sill, his back turned to her, leaving his form sharply silhouetted against the gray light of mid-morning that streamed in through the window. “Baras’ wards aren’t children. They’re young, of course. Malleable. And not secure enough in their own position that they could use some leverage against him. But not children.”

Lyara stared at him, her mind struggling to grasp the words it was hearing. “You mean he has multiple apprentices?”

“No. If he had apprentices that would be inconsequential. There would be an understanding about the nature of the relationship: purely contractual, with the expectation that the superior must constantly be on his guard to keep the subordinate from rising up against him. No, Baras plays a different game. A subtler game.” Tremel turned from the window to survey her seriously. “He doesn’t teach his apprentices. He owns them. Practically adopts them. He creates the illusion of loyalty and commitment, binding his pawns to him until he has them so ensnared they cannot leave.”

“Clever.”

Tremel scowled. “Whether it is clever is beside the point. He has no regard for lineage, for strong blood, and he perverts the bonds the Sith Kingdoms were built upon. He is not to be trifled with.”

Lyara nodded. “I appreciate the warning,” she said. “If he tries to recruit me, I’ll make sure to—”

“To do what? Refuse?” Tremel scoffed. “No, no, you can’t refuse Lord Baras. There is no refusing him. I didn’t call you here to warn you. I came here to give you orders.”

“Sir?”

Tremel stared at her intently. “You are not to draw attention to yourself at the feast, or any other time when Lord Baras is present. You are to dress appropriately, like a girl, and behave as a proper lady. For all intents and purposes, you are my daughter’s lady in waiting for the coming weeks, and under no circumstances are you to reveal who you really are, or how well you can fight.”

“If he’s as wily as you say, he’ll see right through me. I’m a warrior. No costume can hide that.”

“No, it won’t fool him forever. But it will buy us time.” He leveled a firm look at her. “You are useful to me, and I will not have the tools I so finely crafted taken away on a whim… much less by some gray-bannered capital lord who spits on the ways of our Sith ancestors with cheap tricks. Do I make myself clear?”

She nodded, swallowing. “Yes.”

“Good.” His nose wrinkled into a grimace. “Now go wash up. Stars know it might take a few days of washing to get that stench out of you.”


End file.
